Chimera
by Lady Macbeth 1755
Summary: Remy contemplates a rather surprising chage of feelings.Short Oreo vignette. Remy pov.Again thanks to my everpatient beta reader, Bastet, and Brandon Eightcrayondon for reading and commenting.


_**Chimera**_

I´m not sure how I came to this.

Maybe is just in my fate that I should be a failure in matters of the heart. Come to think of it, I never really got it right. Not that I didn´t try...sometimes I think I tried way too many times. And yet, I never made one good choice to account for.

The first woman I felt would be the one...well, let´s not go there...I should know marrying an assassin would get me nearly killed...I was lucky to get out of that alive if you ask me...But then I went and tried again (I´ll be damned if anybody says I´m a quitter...)

Ok, you might say I should know somebody who couldn´t be touched and didn´t trust me enough to even tell me her real name wasn´t exactly a wise choice for a girlfriend...What can I say? I´m not known for playing it safe...But well, the whole idea of rescuing a troubled woman from her solitude was attractive enough and God knows I was fooling myself. Wanting the things I can´t have almost seems like second nature to me, and I wanted her because I couldn´t have her. But what she needed wasn´t a knight in shiny armour, she needed real help; she needed somebody that could save her from herself...I wasn´t the one to do that...I´d say those two were the main points in my descent to romantic decay. But there were others...

When you have had more women than you can easily name, you know something is wrong with you. Not trying to get into details or anything, but...truth is...aside from bedroom manners I don´t think I´ve got it right anywhere else...And frankly I had made my peace with it...till now...

Yep...I´ve done it again...I´ve picked the wrong girl one more time...

Nope, she´s not a killer. She´s not insane either. She doesn´t have any self-esteem problems; she doesn´t have any creepy internal conflicts, at least none worst than a phobia of closed places and a certain tendency to be a little too demanding with herself. Nope...this one has her shit together and in order. She doesn´t have any crazy ex-boyfriend or husband, no kids, no baggage at all. In fact she´s just about the most sane person I´ve ever met. She´s sure of herself, cool, collected, smart, good-looking, has a sense of humor and God bless her heart, she truly cares about me.

But as I said...the problem with my love life is mostly...well...me.

Let me elaborate...She´s my friend...no, scratch that...she´s my best friend...She´s been my best friend for years...the sole partner in crime I ever had.I´m sure not many people can appreciate what it means for a thief to have a partner...When you´re on the "other side of the law" you can´t trust anyone; not even yourself...Your contacts are in it for the money, your clients want the job done, and you´re just the delivery boy, the cops...well do I need to elaborate on the cops? Not even the confines of your own mind are safe enough...at any moment you might let something slip into the wrong ears, any little thing can give you away...to actually trust somebody with your secrets and let them work with you...any professional thief can tell you is more intimate than sex...is a matter of life and death...and in that, Ororo was nothing short of flawless...I´d trust her with my life...And that´s my problem...You can´t fall in love with somebody that up till now you considered a sister. It's? wrong...Freudian kinda wrong or somethin'...

Fuck it, she´s my padnat...Damn, Remy...That´s Stormy! Remember Stormy? Yeah that one...the Stormy that was a TWELVE-YEAR-OLD when you met her, you sick pervert... Ok, she was de-aged back then, but that is beside the point... She was a kid for all you knew...Beh...she´s not a kid anymore that´s for sure...I´ve had my share of bizarre shit in this life but...Look at her!

THAT is not a kid.

Sometimes I wish she had stayed like that...A short, skinny, back-talking, amnesiac kid.It was easier like that...safer... All I had to do was play big brother. Funny thing is I´ve been so busy with Rogue for all these years I didn´t have the time to realize Stormy was not a kid anymore...But now that I have moved on and just started to look around for something new, there she comes, prancing about with all that...all long legs, round hips, full breasts and pouty lips...all husky-voiced, smooth, sexy as hell... I didn´t notice all of that before? How come? Maybe I didn´t want to...I mean...How, sweet Lord in heaven, how does a scruffy brat turns into...I mean just look at her...

If that is not enough, the woman is oblivious to it.It's? like she doesn´t know she´s a knockout. Do you see any make up? Any wonder bra? Any fancy hair treatment, whatever the crap? Nooooo...that´s all her in that blue flowery dress; probably with nothing beneath it, cause I see no panty-line...Just her, firm flesh, cocoa skin and nothing else under that shrewd fabric...This should be illegal...She doesn´t know it but she´s driving me crazy. All my catholic sense of guilty I thought I´d gotten rid of a long time ago is coming back to bite me and it´s all her damn fault.Did I mention we´re friends? We are...which is why she sees no problem in kissing or hugging me,why she´s always around to make sure I´m all right, why she stays long hours in my bedroom, lying in my damn bed, browsing through my CDs and just chatting.

A few months ago it was nothing...we were buddies, partners in crime, she could trust me...Well, she can´t trust me anymore...I don´t know what the hell is going on but lately when she comes to my room to borrow CDs or ask my help to fix something in her attic room, all I can think about is ripping that damn flowery dress to rags and doing all sorts of unholy stuff to her...And, boy...I never knew I had such creative imagination...

When did this happen? Somewhere between thinking Anna was the woman of my life and Stormy just my surrogate baby-sister and now, something must have happened...All I know is that I´m still looking for the loose screw that has to have fallen off my head...´Cause, weird as it sounds...she´s still my best friend. I still want to comfort her when some guy breaks her heart, and I still feel at ease when I´m just being a goof and telling her jokes or making puns that I know are not funny, I still feel like talking to her for hours into the night about everything...And that´s what bugs me...I have lusted after women, I have been in love, and I have lusted and in love at the same time, but this...

I want her, in a way that any man wants a woman, without thinking, with my body, but at the same time I could just talk to her and I´d be happy. I guess anything she could give me would make me incredibly happy. I´m happy around her; as lame as it sounds...I´m myself with her, I´m more myself than I´ve ever been and and I still want to be more...I want to be her friend, her big brother, and I want to be her lover, her man. All at the same time.

Is that supposed to make sense? ´Cause it doesn´t. 


End file.
